


Swimming in Emerald

by ivywitch (sopheg)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (i apologise in advance), (okay they're eighteen but growing up was postponed alright), A little bit of angst, Awkward Flirting, Coming of Age, Crushes, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Multi, PTSD, Scars, Tattoos, happy Draco, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7890931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopheg/pseuds/ivywitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what is supposed to happen once the war no longer looms over the heads of two beautiful boys</p><p>(this fic follows cannon (mostly) up until post-war)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimming in Emerald

Swimming in emerald linen and darkness, Draco smiled softly as the calm silence swallowed him. Through the metal clad porthole cut into the smoothed stone above his bed, he watched, memorised, as orange strands of light began to dance with the currents of the black lake. Awe never failed him in these moments, instantly propelling him back to his first morning in his dorm. Gentle sighs lifted their way from his ribcage to the cold air surrounding him, condensing in small clouds of fog. It took him forever to not hide from the silent pauses, and as he sat with nothing but himself, he couldn't help but be filled with pride and contentment.

He sat straighter now, his bones finally shaken from their sleepy haze. Draco's fingers arched gracefully, before a surge of magic shot through his veins at the touch of his wand. He marvelled at the intricate flowers carved across the tawny brown wood. Draco exhaled with an unforced grin at the recollection of countless nights in the Summer in which camping in a random forest with Pansy and Blaise morphed into teaching them wand modification in order to craft this wand. _A new wand for a new me_.

As the room began to fill with an orange tinged hue, his thought wandered to his now partly illuminated arm. Even through the early morning darkness, Draco was able to see the gashes and deep scars on his left forearm vividly. He had remembered the shape and tuck and twist of every ghastly line, along with each clench of his gut at the thought of them. Amidst all his rage and anguish, he had spent too many long and bloodied nights in pristine white bathrooms, resorting to magical and muggle means alike, desperate to rid himself of his past, his regret and his pain.

Disfigured and overgrown, his old Dark Mark was not able to shame him anymore. The first spell he cast with his new wand, surrounded by his closest and only friends, was a bouquet of enchanted tattoo narcissus. And from then on, his artwork grew, adding pansies and daisies and hydrangeas and baby's-breath and more. With the birth of each day, he added a small leaf - a physical reminder of the new youth he had become. No longer a mural of blood, but ink, Draco began to bloom within himself.

The creases of his lips began to curl upwards, as the day's leaf began to take its form on his arm, unfurling itself out of his wand.

A low rumble from his stomach startled him, luring him out of his fogged state. He had skipped on the opening dinner, which meant he was surviving on the three liquorice wands he had anxiously gnawed at on the train trip here. While Draco had come to terms with his past, and had moved own, many others, he was certain, had not. He thought it best to avoid the general student body until the school had settled into its usual routine.

Draco stretched his back, scrunching his nose in satisfaction at each crack and pop of his ligaments. He carded his hands through his platinum hair and rubbed the back of his neck. He reluctantly pulled up the time with his wand. _4:41am_. While the war-riddled nightmares were gradually subsiding, he was yet to indulge in a proper night's sleep.

With a silent groan and a quick glance back at the water now aflame with the sunrise, he lifted himself from the warmth and safety of his bed. Draco swiftly wrote a note detailing his whereabouts to Blaise for safety, but seeing Draco wrote it in his hurried cursive, it didn't provide him with much reassurance. Grabbing his things, he departed on the trek to the abandoned bathroom by the dungeons, to wash and change and wait for breakfast.

Draco trudged through the door, dropping his pile of belongings in a heap by the vanity and pulled himself to face his reflection. His porcelain skin did not glow as much as his heart did, but he had long come to accept he would never be able to wash the dark magic from his melanin. Without the ash cloud of the war looming above him, he was able to find himself again. He hadn't straightened his hair since the camping trip, when he decided it was holding him back from achieving his authentic self. A ghost of a smile whispered on his lips, content at the locks around his forehead, curled and matted from sleep. Carding another hand through, he lowered his gaze to the thick scars trailing across his chest. He did not flinch at the feeling as he ran his splayed fingers across them - he had familiarized himself to the touch long ago - but did flinch at the memory. Draco had forever committed himself to never hurting anyone again. Dark magic was beyond him, and the pain inflicted upon him with such only acted as a reminder of the potential power within his own hands.

Draco padded to the shower, turned on the hot water and put into action his latest charm. As he felt the enchanted dye twist itself into his dripping hair, he scrubbed away all preconceived notions and expectations of everyone else. _This is my year to shine_.

It felt incredibly odd for Draco to pull on a white muggle t-shirt and washed jeans underneath his robe. The night before, after dinner, Blaise mentioned, that McGonagall had softened the school uniform policy to only robes required for the eighth years as a strange form of compensation, as Pansy had predicted. It was not that Draco was feeling out of place in such garb, as he was frequently finding himself gradually separating from his previous lifestyle, but more so that it was even possible at Hogwarts.

The sleeves reached halfway down his upper arm, so Draco rolled them up quickly before pulling on his robes. He turned towards the mirror, after momentarily forgetting about the dye that was beginning to set in. A grin swiftly crept further across his cheeks as he ran his hand through his drying hair, now periwinkle blue. _New hair for a new me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draco is hurt too often, thought i'd give him some poetic love.  
> more may be to come I dunno yet

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](http://www.curiousoph.tumblr.com)


End file.
